Gamesmanship
by Lucilla2
Summary: Episode tag for S3's 'Dirty Hands'.  It is my attempt to answer the question of why Tom Zarek, a self proclaimed social revolutionary, was nowhere to be seen during the labor strike on the tylium refinery ship.


_One question I and my BSG fannish friends had in Season 3 is "Where the frak is Tom Zarek?". He was the invisible vice-president, and it didn't make sense that he was absent during episodes like 'The Woman King' and 'Dirty Hands'._

_Well, this is my take on what Zarek might have been up to during the labor strike in 'Dirty Hands'. I've tried to make it conform to canon events in the episodes as much as possible._  
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TITLE: Gamesmanship  
AUTHOR: theladylucilla  
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica (2003)  
RATING: PG  
CHARACTERS: Zarek, Fenner  
GENRE: Gen  
SUMMARY: Episode tag for S3's 'Dirty Hands'. Answers the question of why Tom Zarek was absent during the labor strike on the tylium ship.  
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_"... The hell's going on there? That refinery used to be the most reliable ship in the Fleet. Now every day, I start with a stack of messages from Fenner, complaining about living conditions, and deliveries, and, spare parts and compensation, if you can believe that. We're on the run for our lives, and the guy wants to talk about overtime bonuses." _  
-- President Laura Roslin, 'Dirty Hands'

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He pulled up the fraying collar of the protective coveralls, buttoning the top button, making sure it covered the dress shirt and suit beneath.

The suit was far from his best, hardly how he liked to present himself in front of the public, but a visit to the _Daru Mozu_ did not exactly call for black tie.

He moved towards the hatch, and a wiry young boy, grease streaking his pre-pubescent face and dressed in the same type of dirty coveralls, pushed open the heavy door.

Noise assaulted his senses, as it always did on this ship. The refinery ran virtually 24/7 to keep up with the demand from the fuel-hungry ships of the Colonial Fleet.

He climbed up a flight of worn metal steps, and waiting at the top was Xeno Fenner, the sandy-haired refinery foreman.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Vice President. A pity it took a strike to get you back here again," he said in a voice heavy with sarcasm.

Tom Zarek merely smiled, extending his hand and shaking hands with Fenner, ignoring the urge to wipe the grime off afterwards. "I would have liked to have been here sooner, but I had every confidence that the President and the Admiral were dealing with the issues the accident brought to light. When the strike was declared, I was on board the _Tauranian Traveler_. By the time I had concluded my business there, it was all but over.

"However, this is hardly the first time I've been aboard this ship, Mr. Fenner."

He made his way down the conveyer line, squeezing through the narrow spaces, past tired men and women with sweaty faces in dirty coveralls, shaking hands with and talking to veteran workers as well as the newer relief workers that had been rotated in from other ships.

Fenner trailed him the entire time, making the occasional snide comment about the Colonial government, which Zarek smoothed over with the usual platitudes, assuring him and the other workers that their concerns were indeed being taken seriously.

After the tour of the line, Fenner escorted Zarek down to the cavernous lower level where the raw ore was piled high, and machines moved loads of it to the conveyor belts. It was comparatively quiet here, away from other people, and as they walked through the open space, Fenner's formerly hostile attitude melted away into one of easy familiarity.

"I have to hand it to you, Tom," he said quietly. "I did what you suggested, and it all worked out even better than I thought it could. I didn't have anything to do with the Raptor accident, but I gotta say, it couldn't have happened at a better time. Things just fell right into place after that. Thanks for the advice."

"My pleasure," Zarek smiled. "Most people don't know my family was involved in union business since I was a boy. I ran 'Citizens for Sagittaron Labor Reform' for a number of years, and I've seen more than my share of strikes, believe me."

He raised his hands, palms up, showing the weathered and calloused skin. "And I'm no stranger to hard work either." Two decades spent in Colonial labor camps had left its mark; the working conditions on the Luna Three penal mining outpost made the tylium refinery look like summer camp. "So I definitely understand how your people feel."

"I know you do," Fenner said. "We've always been able to rely on _Astral Queen_ for help when we've needed it."

"It would be foolish not to give you whatever assistance you need. We'd be dead in space without your fuel."

"We do our part to keep the Fleet functioning. You know, I really didn't want to have to make such a fuss, 'cause we are at war and I know everyone's got it bad. But my guys, they just couldn't take it anymore; it was too dangerous.

"Getting our demands taken seriously by the President wasn't easy at all though. Cabott lost it when they put him in the brig -- I told you he's been squirrelly since detention on New Caprica. That's why I didn't tell him about any of this."

"That is unfortunate," Zarek sighed. "He shouldn't have had to suffer any more than he already has. But a lot was at stake, and his suffering was a necessary evil. He seems all right now though."

"He's better. Ain't quite all right just yet." He shook his head. "I'll bet this could have been easier if we'd gone to Tyrol too, gotten him involved ahead of time. He was the union chief on New Caprica; he understood."

"Sadly, he's back on _Galactica _now, under Adama. In spite of what he did for you, Tyrol is still military, and it's a bad idea to get them involved too much. The last thing this Fleet needs is to have the military more involved in our day-to-day lives than they already are.

"And as vice president, my hands are tied. I can't be seen as taking sides. But the power is in the hands of the people. IF they know how to use it properly."

"You certainly were right about what happened when I met with the Admiral and the President." Zarek nodded. "She sure hates that book. I know you said they might lock me up, but, I swear, she looked pissed enough to airlock me. Baltar definitely hit a nerve."

Zarek smiled thinly. "Who do you think he stole the idea from?"

When Baltar's 'book', _My Triumphs, My Mistake_s, had first surfaced, Zarek had seen how the ideas -- many of which were only slight variations of those contained in his own jailhouse manifesto, _The Revolution Within_ -- had resonated with the masses, and it was not difficult to predict what was coming. And so it had not been much of surprise when one of the _Queen's_ repair crews had reported back to him with word of Fenner's discontentment with treatment of the workers on his ship.

"I wouldn't mind taking a look at _your_ book sometime," Fenner said.

"And I would love to show it to you. But unfortunately, like so many other people in the Fleet, I left the Twelve Colonies with little more than the clothes on my back." He sighed. "My book doesn't exist anymore, at least not that I've discovered."

"That's too bad. I'll bet it's better than anything that frak-wit Baltar could come up with."

"Yes, indeed it is. Or was, I should say."

"Xeno!"

A call from the stairwells caught their attention, where Cabott was waving down at them.

"They need you back on the line!"

"I gotta go," Fenner sighed, heading back. "Thank you for the visit, Mr. Vice President," he said, all business again.

"I trust you will continue to keep our conversations confidential," Zarek said under his breath as he followed Fenner. "I think you'll agree that it's in both our interests to keep this between us."

"Hell, yea. I got the distinct feeling that if the Admiral ever knew I was talking to you beforehand, Tom, he'd never believe that the Raptor accident really _was_ an accident. Probably not the President either."

Zarek nodded in agreement.

The Raptor accident was a near-tragedy, and Zarek had gone through several hours of near panic afterwards. First and foremost, it had nearly killed Laura. The loss of her would be a powerful blow to morale in the fleet --- and a difficult personal blow. He had become unsettlingly fond of her, and the thought of not having her around was more distressing than he was willing to admit.

Secondarily, it would make him President again, a position Adama had already sworn Tom would never hold again.

And if Fenner had disclosed their private conversations about labor issues during the investigations, fingers would surely have pointed towards him and another alleged assassination plot. After that, it would only be a matter of time before Adama declared martial law and sent him on a one-way trip through an airlock.

As he and Fenner went back up the metal staircase, nearing the workers again, Zarek raised his voice, to be heard over the increasing noise. "I will personally keep an eye on the worker rotations from other ships, to make sure everyone's doing their fair share. Including on _Colonial One_."

"You'll be hearing from me if they aren't. Goodbye, Mr. Zarek," Fenner said, then headed up to the production line.

Zarek was escorted back to the shuttle bay by another worker, who was thankfully silent, leaving Zarek to his thoughts.

Roslin had become fixated on punishing Baltar, her desire to exact justice -- or revenge, most likely -- against him becoming an obsession, blinding her to other problems within the Fleet. And so Zarek had made it his responsibility to look after these things for her, in his own way. He could do things now as vice president to help her, and their fight against the Cylons, to prove he was an important ally.

If things went smoothly enough within the Fleet, perhaps one day Laura would realize just how valuable he could be to her, and not just politically.

The pragmatist in him said that the chances of anything more than an uneasy alliance of mutual distrust between them were slim at best. She certainly had not seemed to understand the huge gesture of support he had shown her by trying to spare her the nightmare of public trials for the Cylon collaborators.

But, in time, anything was possible. The gods were given to strange whims -- what else could explain how he had been snatched away from a Cylon execution squad by Roslin herself? Or being offered the vice presidency again?

He smiled to himself as he stepped onto the waiting shuttle.

If things worked out with Roslin, so be it.

But if they did not -- if there was ever another power struggle within the Fleet -- it was nice to know that he now had the foreman of the Fleet's only fuel refinery as an ally.

THE END

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A/N:  _Details of Zarek's back-story are taken from the comic book series "Battlestar Galactica: Zarek" by Brandon Jerwa.  
_


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